A Little Less Conversation, A Little More Action
by viveresparks
Summary: An old friend from Rachel's past comes looking for her. Aw, Rachie must have forgotten to say goodbye. Of course, anyone who actually believed that would just be kidding themselves.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer_!_** Nomnomnom. I don't own, but I'd like to? Yeah, trick. Title Credit to _A Little Less Conversation _by Elvis. Hell yeah.

Thanks for checking the story out, everyone! c:

A Little Less Conversation, A Little More Action - Chapter One.

* * *

The glass door shut behind Julian and Brooke counted to thirty before letting out a breath and uncrossing her arms. She liked him, she really, _really _liked the guy, but he could get her worked up like no one else.

Brooke cast a glance across her store at the latest rack of high school clothes. She'd done more, but they had already been taken to Tric. And Julian hadn't thought that those ones were too gimmicky, so how could these ones be any worse? Besides, they looked exactly as she remembered them, exactly as they looked in the pictures she had of them. He was just doing it on purpose. She should quit. Oh, that would throw him. She squared her shoulders stubbornly and smiled at herself at the small mirror she had sitting on the sales desk. She'd do it. She'd quit the movie, at least for a while. It was all she needed to bring Julian to his knees.

That and her newest creation. Julian was the world's biggest fool for cleavage. Most guys were so, at the very least, she'd be able to pick up some other guy.

Brooke rolled her eyes at herself and dropped down onto a stool. She was fooling herself – not only was Julian totally unshakable when it came to girls (especially, and she had to admit it with a bit of pride, her) and this was Lucas' movie. _And _that was high school Brooke. She wouldn't give Julian or that skeevy director or whatever the sort of satisfaction that would come with her turning back into that. She cared about Lucas, but not enough to spend more time around that man than she really needed to.

Brooke caught sight of herself in the mirror again and reached forward abruptly to knock the mirror flat on her reflection.

The sound of the mirror flattening on the counter was almost loud enough to block out the sound of lazy Tree Hill traffic in the brief minute between the door opening and its shutting.

She wasn't about to miss the sound of heels clicking on the store's floor.

At first she thought it might have been Peyton or Haley or even Deb, but when she saw the reflection of the intruder in the shiny countertop, warped because of the whiteness, she stood abruptly.

"I'm sorry," Brooke said cordially with her practiced apologetic smile, "We're closed."

The girl had sleek white sunglasses on and was smartly dressed in an electric blue tubedress with white high heels. It could have been a Brooke Davis original. It wasn't.

She smirked and pulled the glasses off, showing dark, almost navy blue, eyes. "Please, Davis. I just saw some guy leave here."

"Excuse me?" Brooke stared at the girl.

The girl tilted her head cattily. "I guess you're even more openthan I thought." She gave Brooke a fleeting onceover, a disdainful look in her eyes.

Brooke glared at her. Set her jaw, cocked her hip, and crossed her arms. Oh, if that was how she wanted to do it, well, Brooke practically invented the game. "What is your problem, exactly?"

"Well, I was looking for a 'Brooke Davis'." Actually threw up air quotes.

Brooke mimicked her tone. "Well, you found her."

"Good, aren't I?"

Brooke shook her head in disgust. "Even if we were open to the general public, I'd refuse you service." She emphasized 'general public' as if it made the whole difference. Because it sort of did.

She laughed like something had actually amused her. Brooke had a good sense of humor and she was sure that nothing she had just said had been funny. "I don't really do the chain look. Anyway. You're friends with Rachel _Gatina_, right?"

Chain look? This _bitch _had the nerve of coming into _her_ store and —

It crossed Brooke's mind, albeit belatedly, that something might be wrong with Rachel. "Why? Did something happen? Is something wrong?"

"I'll take that as a yes."

"It's _not _a yes." And, really, it wasn't. Rachel had stolen Brooke's money and had accounted for many sleepless nights about her welfare and that was just within the past year or so. She didn't really care, she was just curious about how Rachel had turned out.

"I'm going to take it as one anyway."

Brooke came out from around the counter, hands going to her hips. "Why are you looking for her?"

Despite her words, she missed the desk immensely. It was solid and geometric and it separated her from the other girl. She felt open and vulnerable without it and took a calming breath. There was no way she was that paranoid, not after everything that she'd gone through. She should be stronger than that. Braver than that.

The girl showed off two rows of perfectly straight, white teeth. Brooke wanted to punch them out. "You know what, Davis? I'll play this your way – I'm _not _looking for her."

In the end, she decided to maintain the mood, keep Dean talking. She didn't know him at all, and—what was that saying? Know thy enemy. Enemy, if that was what Dean even was. If that was what you _could_ be with such a looming expiry date—and expiry date, like Dean was milk about to sour.

"Then get out of my store."

She looked like she wasn't going to leave at first, like Brooke had caught her off guard. And then the smirk was back. "If that's what you want…" She went to leave, pausing just inside the store. Close enough to have a hand on the door handle.

"Just remember Brooke," the girl said, turning back around and sliding her sunglasses back on. "Rachel had a life before Tree Hill."

Brooke thought of her former employee and dug her nails into her hips through her shirt. Thought about grabbing the nearest pile of clothes and throwing them, or at least the hangers they were on, at the girl's retreating back. Then remembered that she'd have to clean up the expensive mess.

In the end, she decided to keep the anger that was writhing in her stomach like a snake. Brooke didn't know the girl at all – only that she knew Rachel, and even that was a sort of loose cannon line of connection – and Rachel. Brooke grabbed her purse and her keys from the desk and locked the store behind her as she hurried to find Julian.

He'd sure as hell had better changed his views on her clothing by the time she got to Tric.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer_!_** Nomnomnom. I don't own, but I'd like to? Yeah, trick. Title Credit to _A Little Less Conversation _by Elvis. Hell yeah.

Thanks for checking the story out, everyone! c:

A Little Less Conversation, A Little More Action - Chapter Two.

* * *

Brooke waited for the third ring before she started pleading with the phone.

"Rachel." A slight whine, "_Rachel_. Pick the fuck – Oh thank God. Rachel?"

"You got lucky this time. Do you always start phone calls like that?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

Rachel hummed, like she was considering it. "No, actually, I don't think so. Anyway, let's keep this quick. You're charging for phone calls now, aren't you?" She paused. "Aren't I supposed to call you?"

Couldn't help it. Brooke smirked when she said, "Well, I always have been told I have a great voice. And money's tight and I couldn't wait for you lonely bitch to call me."

She sniggered. "Okay, so, what's your problem?"

"I think you have the problem, actually."

Suddenly serious. "Don't bring that up and ruin a totally good insult fest. I'm better, I swear it."

Rachel sounded so much like she wanted to convince Brooke that she was okay, like she thought that Brooke still had the power to get her a job (which, okay, yeah, Rachel probably did think that). It broke Brooke's heart a little bit.

"No, not that."

"Oh." Brighter. "Well, what then?"

Brooke hesitated. "Someone came looking for you today."

"Yeah, well. Nathan does still love me."

"And I can still kick your ass, even if it has gotten bigger."

"Oh, funny."

"I thought so. But really, Rachel, this girl… she said that she knew you before you came to Tree Hill."

Rachel let out a huff of laughter. "Yeah? How 'bout that. Did she leave a name?"

Brooke shook her head. "No." She paused and Rachel inhaled and Brooke could hear the, '_well, thanks Brooke, but it really doesn't matter_' so she beat Rachel to speaking. "Rachel, I didn't like her. And I talked to her for all of a minute and a half."

"You always were quick to hate people."

Brooke laughed sarcastically. "Well when they're hitting on the _guy I'm dating_…"

"You guys weren't dating!" She paused and there was a soft clicking. Brooke suddenly had a vision of Rachel chewing her fingernail. "How is Lucas, anyway? I didn't really get to see him last time I was there…"

"He's okay." And Brooke tried to keep her voice optimistic. She _really _did. "Great, actually. He and Peyton are engaged and expecting. The best part? I'm Maid of Honor, and you're not invited."

"You are so full of shit, Brooke Davis."

Brooke shook her head again. "Not so much. You really aren't invited!"

"You know that's not what I'm talking about." Brooke did. "I always did hate Peyton."

"And you always had a soft spot for Lucas. And Peyton's just smarter than you." _She didn't get addicted to drugs._

"I don't think it's me she has to worry about." Brooke was about to comment when Rachel said, "So, she didn't leave a name or a number or anything?"

It took Brooke a minute to remember who Rachel was talking about. "No, nothing. She just walked in, acted like she owned the place and asked about you by name."

"Can you at least tell me what she looked like? Or were you too busy defending my honor?" Something like amusement was in Rachel's words and Brooke tried to relax. The girl, though she obviously had her head up her own ass, really _hadn't _done anything to raise Brooke's alarms. Brooke was just being paranoid.

"Black hair, blue eyes. Shorter than Haley…"

Heard the intake of breath on Rachel's side of the line. That _did _raise Brooke's alarms. The soft, "_Shit,_" sounded like Rachel had said it with her head turned away from the phone. Back on the line, she asked, mumbling and talking through that clicking noise, "Had 'slut' painted all over her?"

Brooke had sort of liked her dress. Hate the bitch, don't hate the clothing. "There was potential."

"I'll be at the airport today at three. Pick me up, whore."

"Rachel, you can't ju-"

All she got was the click of the phone in reply.

Brooke sighed and ended the call, checked the time – it was noon and Brooke wondered, not for the first time, where exactly Rachel was – and then threw her phone onto the chair where she had dropped her coat after walking into the house and fell back onto the couch. She could hear music playing from the direction of Sam's room and groaned.

Rachel and Sam didn't seem like such a great idea.

For Brooke, at least. Because she had no doubt that Rachel would love Sam and vice versa, but that wasn't what Brooke wanted for either of them. If Rachel really was as clean as she said she was, and Brooke believed the sincerity that she'd heard, she wanted to protect that in her friend. As for Sam, well, she preferred to keep her as alcohol and drug free as she could.

Well, good try anyway, Brooke.

She stayed like that for a long time. Long enough for Sam to cycle through the entire new Kanye West before she rolled off of the couch. Literally, onto the floor, and grabbed her coat and her purse before walking to Sam's room and poking her head in.

"Hey."

Sam looked over the top of the iBook that Brooke had bought her from where she was laying on her bed. "Julian dump you?"

Brooke glared. "No, as a matter of fact, he didn't. I have to go pick a friend up from the airport." She said wearily.

"Try not to look so happy!" Sam snarked.

Brooke fake laughed. "Can I trust you to stay here or do I have to take you over to Haley's? If we hurry, you can have naptime with Jamie."

Sam fake laughed back. "I think I'll be fine, Brooke."

Brooke rolled her eyes and turned out to go back into the kitchen. She heard the squeak of the bed springs as Sam followed her. She went to the island counter and shifted through her purse, checking for her keys, and pulled her jacket on. Caught sight of the time, rolled her eyes as if Rachel could see her, and pulled a box of Saltines from the cupboard.

It was so how Rachel could unsettle _everything _about her.

Sam took a seat at one of the chairs across from her, casting a pointed glance at the crackers. She knew that Brooke only ate them when something was upsetting her. "Who's the friend?"

Brooke shrugged. "Just an old cheerleader friend. She's in some of the pictures over there." Pointed towards the coffee table.

"The redhead?"

Brooke nodded. "That would be Rachel."

"You never talk about her."

"Yeah, we didn't part on the best of terms."

Sam nodded and stayed in silence for a minute. "Did you know it's impossible to eat thirty saltine crackers in a minute?"

Brooke didn't. Didn't believe Sam, either. And so she tried. Several times, in fact. Almost died twice.

By the time she ended up at the airport, she felt sluggish and sick and the last thing she wanted was to have to deal with Rachel. She felt bad almost instantly as she walked through the familiar automatic doors and into the brightly lit terminal. Brooke had practically invited Rachel when she had called her, and it's not like she _hated _the redhead. Far from it.

Brooke stood off to the side in the main entrance of the airport, arms crossed and chewing heavily on gum. Rachel had said one and it was nearing one thirty and there was still no sign of the redhead. Brooke turned to look at the flight listings and it was the first time she realized that she had no idea where Rachel was flying in from.

God. Some crazy came looking for Rachel and the next minute Rachel was flying into town. Brooke was so over her head and -

"Oh shit, is that Brooke Davis's slutty ass or is Tree Hill just recruiting them now?"

A scandalized mother hurried her laughing eight year old away. Brooke turned back around and found Rachel standing a few feet away, a duffle bag in one hand and her cell phone in the other.

Her hair was longer, hanging straightly to her ribcage. Her eyes were the same bright green, her lips the same soft pink. Where it was visible, her skin was tan and unblemished. And yet, she still looked different.

Brooke couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was until Rachel was in her arms and they were hugging and Brooke could feel Rachel's ribcage and shoulder blades without really trying. They separate and Brooke looked at her again and she noted the way Rachel's collarbone was more prominent, how her arms seemed about to wither away and the way that her hips were the only thing she had left of the curves that had once gotten her into _Maxim_.

She was too thin. She looked tired. Defeated.


End file.
